


i stumbled into your house (and maybe into your life too)

by eclipse_incarnate



Series: Stumbled [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1845760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse_incarnate/pseuds/eclipse_incarnate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn was drunk and stumbled into someone else's house, thinking it was his and Louis' flat. It was an awkward morning. The owner was really attractive, though—and familiar.</p>
<p>-----------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>
  <i>In underwear, likely to have bloodshot eyes and disarrayed hair, and making himself a complete fool in front of someone else’s bedroom, he realized with horror he just saw the attractive guy from the party again.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>And he slept in his bed.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>And not in the way he wanted to.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	i stumbled into your house (and maybe into your life too)

**Author's Note:**

> Um, based off a tumblr post about an au someone stumbling into someone's house and awkward morning conversations and stuff. Although, this turned out to be quite, erm, cheesy-cute by the middle and the end but i thought it was okay. Might continue this universe because I kind of finished it me wanting more but unmotivated to write more. Heh.
> 
> Also if there are any typos i'm sorry!! just tell me in the comments below
> 
> p.s. this is just really lame forgive me. I tried
> 
> edit: fuck, I just realized the time settings in this fic were weird. I fixed it now!

Zayn almost stumbled out the pavements and into the street, his steps uncoordinated, leather-clad boots scuffing the gravel ungracefully. He was walking in a lurching fashion, as if he was a zombie looking for new meat to eat, but he wasn’t a walking dead seeking for food, he was just wanted to sleep on his comfy bed.

He was shivering due to the November evening air. The cold brisk of the wind hit his face like a slap, but the inside of his body churning alcohol which exuded warm and buzzing pleasure.

Intoxicated, his mind went back over to earlier, where his flatmate, Louis, persistently invited him to join him at this party. He had kept pestering him with annoying phrases of sympathy such as he thought they were “bros for life”, or variations of how he was a disappointment of a best friend slash housemate he was, or that he really needed to let out all the stress off his body because his—their—boss was a pain in the ass.

So after an hour, he had found himself in his usual get up of black leather jacket and boots, skinny jeans, and a white shirt that said COOL KIDS DON’T DANCE. His hair had been styled up in a quiff, but now it was dishevelled, though he pushed the bangs back to make it seemed somewhat fashionably acceptable.

Blurry images of houses and cars and trees and street paths and names came into view as he glanced up. Although he didn’t have a problem reading signs and such, his hazy vision was a difficulty to have because he couldn’t read straight. With mentally wishing himself good luck, he strolled through the left lane of the two streets.

Lawns and fronts of houses seemingly looked familiar, so he congratulated himself for getting the right route. He was still new in the neighborhood, only moving in sometime this month—two weeks ago if he remembered correctly—so he was not that accustomed to every artery of the community, still needing to read the street signs. Plus the fact he was always being driven inside and outside the village by Louis on the way to work and the way home for the fact they work on the same building and for the same company, not so much paying attention to the routes they ever encountered, so there’s that.

Louis did know the streets enough, though. But he wasn’t with Louis because he left him at the party still snogging a random girl sloppily. Disgusted, Zayn had enough of new faces and sweaty bodies and loud music that were starting to get boring and irritating, except for that guy he saw before he left, mentally noting himself if he ever see him again he should get his name or number or something that might help him get laid with the lad. In his head, he was already nicknamed _Cute Blondie_.

Zayn tripped over a pebble, cursing loudly and heading toward the pathway toward his front door. He felt for the keys inside his pockets—both on jeans and jacket—but felt nothing of the metal, so with a sigh, he lifted the front door mat, which looked oddly different but shrugged it off as a mistake caused by his alcohol-driven system, and saw nothing but light dirt.

Confused and eyebrows furrowed, he decided to fish for his phone and dialled Louis’ number. After three attempted calls, the boy finally picked up, his voice slurred. “’Ello, Zayn. Where’re you?”

Multiple giggles erupted at the end of the line and Zayn had to back the phone away from his ear because not only Louis kept shouting and giggling, the loud music was overwhelming to his ears.

Reeling back his ear near his phone, and trying to withstand the obnoxious noise of shouts and pop music blaring through the speaker, he spoke, trying to sound straight and voice turned up. “Lou, I left my house keys inside the house and the key under the mat is nowhere. Why is it not there?”

“I don’t know! I was pretty sure it was there,” was all Louis said before he ended the call, leaving a perplexed and abashed Zayn. Grunting, he shoved the phone inside his pocket and walked around the back.

The back lawn was neat and everything, though there was a stack of paint near the wooden fence so that was new. Maybe Louis wanted to paint the fence and didn’t inform him about it. He never really went to the back of the house, too invested on the leather couch in front of the TV.

The screen of the back door was unlocked but the door was not. Hating himself for leaving the party earlier than Louis and only finding out he was locked outside, he went over the left side of the house.

The window to his bedroom door was pitch black inside, and he viewed it for a moment, and then to the pipeline. _How will he climb that?_

There were a few possible landings he could support himself with, so he wasn’t totally pessimistic about getting up. He just hoped people won’t see him and think he was a burglar or something.

He gritted his teeth, and jumped and held on the pipeline, and then he fell down immediately, collapsing above the dirty grass. He was positive they didn’t have the side of the house all covered with grass, positive there was a narrow concrete pathway, too, but with his mind too blinded with alcohol, he didn’t care for the _small_ detail.

After a few attempts, he finally got near his window, and landed on the small railed footing below his window. He slid up the bottom panel of glass of the window and let himself in the room. Too preoccupied of the fact he was too tired and drunk, he didn’t bother opening the lights, just taking off his clothes, leaving him in his underwear. He slumped down the familiar bed which wasn’t that familiar after all, and slipped into a dreamless sleep—his sense of smell remembering a trace of a musky scent, leather bound books, and a hint of sandalwood.

~

Zayn woke up to afternoon sunlight seeping through the window, his hangover kicking in like lightning: effective and fast. He groaned, the palm of his hand on the fore of his head, rubbing it softly. He saw two pieces of _Alka Seltzer_ and a glass of water. _How nice of Louis_ , he thought. Probably one of the few times—yes, there are other moments—Louis acted nice was giving him this hangover treatment.

He dropped the two tablets onto the water and let it dissolved within the liquid. As he waited, he glanced around the room, and with shock and disbelief, he spoke.

“Oh, god. I broke into someone’s house.” Zayn muttered to himself, his voice holding confusion and terror. “Oh my, god. I slept on their bed.”

The door opened slowly, and a blonde head and warm blue eyes peaked through the door, hesitant, and then fully revealed himself when he saw Zayn’s face in complete surprise.

“You’re awake,” he sounded diffident, and then he gulped, eyes not meeting Zayn’s own. “You might—“ he stuttered, his eyes scanning the ceiling and the side of the room. “You might wanna put on your clothes first before we talk this through, yeah?”

And just like that, the boy went out the room, leaving Zayn stunned on his position, but the boy’s brain started to process what just happened. He cursed, and called himself some ridiculous names, and would probably get it from Louis, too.

He viewed the clock above the bedroom door for moment, and saw it was a few minutes past ten in the morning. He slept until the afternoon in someone’s house—in someone’s house he didn’t even know. _Nice_.

In underwear, likely to have bloodshot eyes and disarrayed hair, and making himself a complete fool in front of someone else’s bedroom, he realized with horror he just saw the attractive guy from the party again.

And he slept in his bed.

And not in the way he wanted to.

Various foul words and thinking numerous versions to apologize later, clothed in last night’s clothes and smelling of faint beer, he walked out the room, and saw Louis…?

“Heya pal!” Louis exclaimed. “You know our flat is two houses away right?”

_So it begins._

“Where is he?”

“He, who?”

“Cu— the fit blonde guy.”

“You think I’m fit?”

Zayn turned around, feeling the rising heat inside his cheeks, and saw the blond from last night’s party. His eyes look a bit tired, but he was smiling enough for Zayn not to care. Zayn certainly could see from the side of his eyes Louis mischievously smiling like an idiot. He was an idiot. _No, he_ was _the idiot._ Idiot for sleeping in someone else’s bed and declaring the owner was fit _. Smooth._

“Did I say fit?” Zayn swayed his fisted hands in the air, stopping them at the front of his chest, face scrunched. “I mean neat. _Neat_ blonde guy. Your room is neat, too. I’m sorry I slept on your neat bed. Yep, totally neat—the neatest!”

He wanted to slap and punch his face until he couldn’t talk anymore. _Damn_ , he sounded so stupid, voice slightly high in pitch.

Zayn heard Louis cackle, his voice filling the air like a thunder’s roar, mocking his awkward state. He wanted to give the other boy an intense glare until he stopped laughing as if he was a hyena, but Cute Blondie won’t stop staring at him, his heartbeat rising by the passing second. _Maybe he should punch Louis’ face._

And then Cute Blondie chuckled, and Zayn was absolutely confused, but he just mimicked him, feeling his racing heart slow down in pace. Feeling he should apologize for the misunderstanding and mishap, he spoke up.

“I am truly sorry.” Zayn said, blaming his love for books for uttering something so formal, so he added: “So fucking sorry.”

“I know you are,” the other boy said, smiling a little, almost a smirk if Zayn may say.

“No,” Zayn said, not believing his words. “I am really sorry for breaking and entering into your house and then sleeping on your bed. God, you slept on the couch for me!”

“Who said I slept on the couch?” Cute Blondie said, fully smirking now, his arms crossed over his chest. Zayn just noticed he was wearing a tank top and sweats. “I—we—have another room.”

“We?” Zayn terrified, asked. “Your flatmate slept on the couch?”

“Nah, he’s with his parents for the weekend.” Cute Blondie grinned, handing out his hand to him. “I’m Horan by the way. Niall Horan—but you can call me Nee or Nialler. It’s up to you, really. Don’t call me Neil, though.”

_What about Cute Blondie?_

“I’m Z-Zayn. Zayn M-Malik,” he told him, stammering a bit on the way, hearing Louis laugh at the end of the couch. He almost forgotten he was in the room, and Zayn wished he _was_ not the room. He was going to get so much taunting from him after this. He shook Niall’s hand, feeling the warm aura the other boy was emanating, as if he was walking sunlight.

“So,” Zayn started as he unclasp his hand off Niall’s, feeling uneasy again. “Why didn’t—“

“Why didn’t I wake you up? Why didn’t I call someone or the police?” Niall beamed, expression amused. “Well, I came home with your friend, Louis, there,” said boy raised his hand as if Niall was a teacher checking for attendance. “And I saw you with him last night, so when I noticed you were drooling on my favorite pillow—“

“Again, I am so fucking sorry. Fuck. I drooled on your favorite pillow! What kind of a monster am I?” Zayn interrupted him, humiliation overcoming his ability to speak, rambling, hands flying in the space between them.

“The pretty kind?” Niall reacted out of context, answering Zayn’s rhetorical question. He saw him redden on the cheeks, his pale skin blooming pinkish red. Zayn shrugged it aside for the fact he himself was blushing at Niall’s comment—compliment?

Louis coughed by his throat, breaking the unintentional silence, sitting up from his seat, speaking in such a serious tone Zayn was kind of taken aback. “Okay, love birds. Enough of this. Zayn has work in an hour, and he needs to be bathed—immediately.”

Being dragged by Louis out the door, Zayn shifted his head to look at Niall one last time—he hoped it wasn’t the last—and shouted over the room with an apologetic smile before Louis could slam the door shut. “I’m really sorry!”

~

“Get off me.” Zayn said as they left the front steps of Niall’s house, last night’s memories swimming back to him, the front pavement of his house seemingly the same with his and Louis’ apartment. Well, they did live on the same street. “I don’t have work today. It’s Sunday.”

“Well, yeah, but,” Louis started. “You were totally going to bleed out in front of him with your continuous blushing and shit.”

“You mean—“ Zayn  begun, but was cut off.

“And yes it was _that_ noticeable considering you have darker skin. God, you were so bad I wanted to laugh, but I had enough of it, so I had to pull you out the room.”

“I’m just so embarrassed I slept on someone else’s bed— And, hey don’t look at me like that. You know what I meant!” Zayn half-shouted, feeling utterly frustrated about the situation. Going back before the front of Niall’s door shut, when he had cried out an apology, wishing it wasn’t the last time he saw him. Now with his brain properly functioning again, he hoped he won’t see him again anytime soon.

“I have to say,” Louis said as they enter _their_ own house, holding a delighted tone in his voice as he talked. “It was pretty funny. You being flustered and shit like that. You’re likely to make someone flustered, not the other way around. Funny that.”

“Don’t remind me.” Feeling grumbly and embarrassed enough, he sauntered away from Louis’ side, and toward his own bedroom, wanting to just crash down his bed, skipping lunch—skipping away from more of Louis’ teasing.

~

Zayn woke up, sweat sticking to his back. The sun struck the windows fiercely, heat rising around the room. He checked up on the time, the digital clock beside his bed declaring it was fifteen minutes past two in the afternoon. Grunting, he swept off the bed, feeling his stomach rumbling on the way.

“Shower first, yes?” He muttered more to his empty stomach than to himself.

After getting bathed, he dressed himself in last night’s jeans and a white tank top with a pallete of magentas and purples, adding a thin plaid shirt over it with almost the same colors.

He swayed the door open, and saw Louis in front of the TV, a cooking show casting on the screen. Louis waved over him, his signature roguish smile dancing on his face. “Good morning, Zayn.”

“It’s the afternoon.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to say that earlier.” Louis said, taking sip of apple juice from the tall glass by the coffee table. “After the little incident this morning, huh?”

Avoiding more of Louis’ teasing and groaning inwardly, he padded over the kitchen, hearing a dull sound of the refrigerator open. Puzzled, he went in the room to find Niall by the fridge door, drinking one Zayn’s cold bottle of water.

Niall caught in surprise, closed the refrigerator door, wiping his mouth after. “You’re awake.”

Suddenly, Zayn was hit by the earlier incident, wherein Niall had said those words to him for the first time. Normally, Zayn would be pissed someone drinking off his cold bottles of water, but he couldn’t do that to Niall. He slept on his bed by accident, making him sleep on his flatmate’s room, and then embarrassing himself in front of him. He didn’t have the guts to be angry at him.

“Did you paint this?” Niall pointed his index finger at the painting hanging on the wall near the fridge. Zayn only nodded. “I could tell. Your initials are on the bottom side.”

“Louis asked me to come over an hour ago, saying something about hanging out.” Niall said, scratching the back of his neck, answering Zayn’s building question on why was he here in their house. He was still wearing the same top this morning, exchanging his sweatpants for a pair of black jeans, a cap put in backwards displayed on his head.

Zayn couldn’t think to say anything, so he just walked over toward the refrigerator. He was near Niall now, could feel the warmth radiating off him. He opened the door for bottled water, but was disappointed to find none.

“Here,” Niall shoved the bottled water in his hand, a sheepish smile on his face. “I’ve barely drank anything. Take it. It’s yours anyway.”

Zayn would’ve asked if how he knew that it was his, but then he realized he lived here, so he kind of just shrugged it off with Niall noting it as a general thought. He stared at his hand for a second, and then took it, their fingertips accidentally brushing at the contact. He swore he saw Niall stiffen a little, could see the blush over his cheeks. Usually he would’ve remarked something, something he could say as an act of flirting, but he was left speechless, feeling like in high school again, with the time of crushes and awkward silences.

“Love birds,” Zayn snapped his head toward the door of the kitchen, finding Louis standing there, his face expressing a tiny smirk. “I’ve been watching you two be awkward there, and God, it was oh so entertaining, but,” he paused, his expression changing, sighing dramatically. “I forgot to do some errands this morning.”

“By errands, you mean…?”

“Yes, grocery shopping,” Louis hesitated, but smiled lightly, though it held a hint of something devilish, the kind where Zayn would be embarrassed. “Yes, buying more of your precious cold bottled water.”

It’s not precisely the most embarrassing thing Louis could say, but he felt ashamed enough for his habit of always having cold water. The bottle of water in his hand was beginning to feel warm, the drips of water from its side sliding down and over his gripped hand. He took a gulp of water, looking at Louis angrily. He just laughed in response, and left the room, shutting the door.

“So, what do you wanna do?” Niall asked, after the air went still and Zayn realized he finished the _goddamn_ bottle of water.

Despite Zayn’s earlier state, he laughed when his stomach groaned again. “Well, I haven’t eaten anything, and since there’s no food in the fridge, and the cabinets always get empty before it. I’d say late lunch. My treat?”

Niall smiled and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I got a car. I’ll drive, then.”

“Great,” Zayn said. “I’ll just put on some shoes. I’ll meet you outside, alright?”

“Alright.”

With one last look at Niall, the boy left the room, heard the door shut close, and Zayn felt himself smile because, well, he really didn’t know, but he was happy, and he thought that’s what matter.

~

“You know I’m only treating you out because I really feel sorry for trespassing onto your house. I really feel embarrassed talking and thinking about it, but here I am.” Zayn said, sliding himself onto the passenger seat. Niall glanced at him before putting his foot on the pedal, and driving off.

“Then stop it. Seriously, how many times can a man apologize?” Niall noted as he took a curve. Zayn fastened his seatbelt at that, shifting himself rightly after being moved by the turn of the car.

“I just want to make sure that you’re okay with it,” Niall looked at him from the side of his eyes, his eyebrow cocked up. “Okay, you’re okay with it! But still I feel sorry about it. I swear I won’t sleep on your bed ever again.”

“Ever?” Niall smirked at him for a moment. “Really?”

“Um,” Zayn really didn’t have anything to say, too overwhelmed by Niall’s act of playfulness.

“So, where do you want to eat your late lunch?” Niall spoke instead. “You haven’t really told me.”

“Subway. Kind of feeling a subway sandwich right now.”

“I’ve never been to Subway.” Niall said nonchalantly.

“You’ve never had Subway?” Zayn expressed, a little shocked, staring at the other boy quizzically.

“Well, technically I had Subway. My mate Haz—Harry, the one who I live with—once came home with a take-out of a Meatball Marinara.” Niall explained, coming to a halt after Zayn pointed out the sandwich restaurant. “But I never entered the store, yanno?”

“It’s your lucky day, then.” Zayn grinned at him, unbuckling his seatbelt and unlocking the door open, about to get out. Niall copied his smile, wider than Zayn’s.

“Luck o’ the Irish, I guess.” Niall joked and laughed, stepping off the vehicle, leaving Zayn shaking his head, laughing as well.

~

“So, what do you want?” Zayn asked, standing near the counter, not really falling in line, letting the others first. “My treat for unintentionally breaking into your house and sleeping on your bed, remember?”

“Um,” Niall begun, putting his thumb over his chin, genuinely thinking hard. He faced Zayn. “I really don’t know. What do you recommend?”

“I’d say the Oven-Roasted Chicken for starters.” Zayn suggested.

“Hm, isn’t that a little simple? I had a chicken sandwich before.” Niall queried, making a doubtful face.

“Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.” Zayn said out of the blue.

“What?” Niall asked. Zayn chuckled at his expression.

“Confucius quoted it.” Zayn explained, examining Niall’s face. He noticed the subtle freckles dotting his neck and face, itching to touch them with him fingertips.

“Huh,” the other boy said, dumbfounded. Zayn laughed lightly, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder for a moment before lifting it down to his side, his face returning to its stoic look.

“So, you’ll get it?” Zayn asked, smiling with thin lips, feeling awkward all of a sudden. He didn’t know why he was acting so awkward around Niall whenever he felt so relax just a second before. Maybe it was just a natural habit now due to the morning episode—he didn’t know.

Niall smiled over him, though, and Zayn could only do the same, feeling a heavy weight went off his chest. “I’ll get it, then.”

~

“This is really good.” Niall said after he swallowed a mouthful bite of the foot-long sandwich, smiling with delight at the food in his hands. “I really like the sauce you made them put in. What is it?”

“Just Southwest Chipotle sauce. Nothing extraordinary.” Zayn stated. Niall stared at him comically.

“I’ve never heard of it, so it’s extraordinary to me,” he finally said after a long stare. “Like you.”

Zayn almost choked at his own sandwich. “What?”

“’Just think you’re extraordinary.”

“How?”

“Well,” Niall started, rolling his eyes as he took another bite. “You trespassed my house, slept on my bed uninvited, quotes stuff, paints, and you got a pretty face. Pretty extraordinary stuff right there. Like this sandwich.”

“It’s a very simple sandwich.” Zayn pointed out, trying to avert from the comment about his “pretty face”.

“Yeah, well. It tastes pretty extraordinary. Simple but extraordinary.” Niall grasped for his drink and gulped a mouthful.

“So, what? I’m simple but extraordinary? You only spent time with me once. I can assure you I’m not extraordinary.”

“Yeah, but you _are_. I’m the simple one here. I’m no different to a lot of men: likes his sports, drinking pints, just having a laugh—a simple man. That’s me. Simple.” Niall dropped the paper wrapper of the sandwich in his hands, leaning forward Zayn. Zayn noticed he finished the food already, while he only had bitten his once. “You—you quote stuff. You paint. Not a lot of people are like that. Yeah, sure people read. Yeah, people can draw. But quoting and painting stuff? Pretty extraordinary right there.”

“Yeah,” Zayn responded, not getting how he was extraordinary by that kind of stuff, though he didn’t question it, instead he said: “Yeah, but how does that make me simple?”

Niall showed a tiny smile, looked down at his cap, putting it back on his head, looking at Zayn with the warmest blue eyes he had ever seen, his smile growing blindly. “You like me. A simple man. Well, I hope you like me.”

“I like you.” Zayn reassured him, wrapping the sandwich back on its paper wrapper for later, standing up his seat, Niall copying. He knew what Niall meant: meaning not in the means of being attracted, or in a romantic way—or even in a sexual way—but as a human being, or as a friend. Maybe.

~

“This felt like a date.” Niall said as he seated himself on the driver’s seat just as Zayn went to fasten his seatbelt. He smiled as he clutched the driving wheel.

“It’s not a date.” Zayn stated firmly, smiling at him, amused.

“How about I take you to one, then?” Niall smirked at him, a little bit cocky for Zayn’s taste.

“Alright.” Zayn said quite casually, as if he had been in a lot of dates. He had been on a few—he mostly just went with one-night stands, but Niall felt date-worthy, wanted to get to know him. There’s just a certain aura about him that felt _real_ and _warm,_ and Zayn liked it.

“Alright,” said Niall grinning, his energy suddenly changed, kind of—electrifying. Not the usual warm energy Zayn was getting used to.

“I hope you’ll sleep on my bed after it. Although, you already have—just not in the way I wanted to.” Niall joked charmingly. Zayn laughed, recalling his thoughts when he woke up on his bed, thinking the same thing. At the same time, he didn’t feel a bit awkward around him anymore—or about the incident. As if that incident about him stumbling into his house, uninvited, was just the universe’s way of telling him to stumble into his life, too.

“Don’t remind me,” he replied, but unlike when he had said the same thing to Louis, he was smiling.

Contrary to his previous thoughts about Niall, about Zayn wanting to just have sex with him, he didn’t want it any more. Spending time with him was as just as fulfilling.

 

 


End file.
